


on the road

by SoulJelly



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Group dynamics, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulJelly/pseuds/SoulJelly
Summary: Or, “How four mystery-solvers share a van over hundreds of miles without going completely crazy.” A small character study of Mystery Inc. team dynamics.





	on the road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ANGSWIN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANGSWIN/gifts).



> Hello recipient! I’m sorry I couldn’t pull off a full mystery for you before the deadline. Instead I thought I would explore the character & friendship dynamics that you enjoyed. I really hope you like it.

When Fred drives they make an early start, and it’s already swelteringly hot in the Mystery Machine.

Even with the windows rolled all the way down and takeout flyers forming makeshift fans in front of faces, the day dawns hot and unrelenting. It’s almost surreal after a cold night and a long chase and another mystery solved, but they’re unused, now, to staying in one place too long; the road beckons, with promises of destination and adventure.

Sleepy with the early hour, but soon reliving in exaggerated fashion all of their recent adventures - “and then Shaggy just yells out ‘Zoinks!’ in the loudest voice you’ve ever heard, and scales the chandelier, and even the masked guy was so impressed he just stopped and stared-“ Velma recalls, enthusiastically waving a bread roll as they pile breathless and giggling into the van.

Daphne, trying to catch her breath, adds, “But the best part was when he and Shaggy just stare at each other, and then the monster just starts… slowly clapping.”

Shaggy is grinning good-naturedly and laughing a little at his own miraculous feats of athleticism while they wave the town and its creepy old chateau behind.

When Fred drives, Shaggy and Scooby eat second breakfasts - sometimes thirds - in the back of the van, and Fred tries not to mind about the crumbs as he watches critically through the rear-view mirror. Daphne keeps an eye on the map, her and Velma adding helpful trivia about places they pass and places they plan to visit. There’s usually a talk show or game show on the radio, word games all three play along with and sharpen their wits to. They race rebelliously over the long empty stretches of roads, just a little quicker than they should do, and the journeys are as comfortable and steady as a boat on smooth waters.

When Velma drives, they have to pull over so she can heave the seat all the way forward - Fred’s impossibly tall, she can’t see how he can have the seat pushed so far back and still reach the pedals! - and Fred affectionately ruffles her hair as he hands her the keys. Velma scoffs at him, but gently pushes him towards the back of the van. The hair-ruffle turns to a half-hug and then he pulls open the back doors and collapses gratefully onto the mattress which they keep on the dusty floor. A soda that Shaggy has somehow managed to keep cool is pressed into Fred’s hand; he drinks gratefully and throws a tired arm across his eyes.

Velma drives a little unsteadily, a slower pace as she peers cautiously at the wing mirrors through her thick bottle glasses. Daphne sits beside her, helpfully quiet, and they enjoy gentle guitar drifting up from the radio speakers whiles a guy croons about peace and the futility of war. Daphne sneaks glances in the mirror to fix her makeup and spritzes perfume which makes the stuffiness a little more pleasant.

The guys in the back nap and play cards, talk about repainting the van. Daphne and Velma sneak conspiratorial glances and roll their eyes - it’ll never get done, not that any of them mind too much. When the tension in Velma’s shoulders eases, when she stops gripping so tightly on the wheel and gets used to driving again, Daphne turns up the radio and they sing along. Though Velma’s driving is rusty, she is the first under the bonnet when there are repairs to be done, making repairs with quick and oil-smudged fingers.

When Daphne takes the wheel, it’s with the practiced elegance of someone who’s been circling driveways in her family’s expensive cars since she was sixteen. Seat adjusted, mirrors swung just so and falling into easy conversation as she winds them down scenic side roads. Sometimes she’ll park up to take a photograph or pick some flowers, just because, but never for too long. She and Velma talk about books and television, Shaggy and Fred chiming in from the back.

As the air cools and the night creeps in, Daphne grows tired and swaps places with Fred. Shaggy sits with his head in Daphne’s lap as she absently winds it into braids around her fingers. Before they know it, she’s fashioned him a flower crown with some of the wildflowers gathered on their trip - orange and green, colours to match their van - and Shaggy grins his lazy grin and wears it good-naturedly. Scooby paws at it, curious, so Velma reaches over for a pile of the remaining flowers and makes a collar for him, too.

When it’s time to sleep Daphne curls up, back to them, on the edge of the mattress and kicks off her shoes.

After a few minutes of shifting and sighing, Shaggy opens one sleepy eye and beckons.

“Like, c’mon Daph, don’t be a stranger.”

Scooby blinks dark, sleepy eyes, lets out a soft whine and rests his head back on his paws.

She only hesitates briefly before accepting the warm hug from her friend and dog. Shaggy is skinny but the heat emanates from him; he gives her half a blanket, and they lie there slumbering with their breaths falling in time with the rise and full of Scooby’s great flank. No matter how bumpy the roads are, now matter how many ghost stories they’ve told in the darkness of the van with their flashlights shining, they all sleep well.

It’s a careful balance of knowing each other’s limits; knowing when offering to drive is an excuse to have some space and be alone with the road, when sitting shotgun is a friendly hand reaching out, when sleeping in the back is about the need for some extra comfort after a long day. The constant rotation, the ebb and flow of conversation, bring life and light to the Mystery Machine even as the road stretches on and on, hurtling towards some undiscovered adventure.

When Shaggy drives, which isn’t very often and really only in emergencies, it isn’t for very long. Even when they have somewhere else to be, the neon lights of a particularly appealing diner might catch his gaze along the darkening skyline and with an autopilot engaged by the promises of fries and chilli dogs, suddenly Shaggy’s following the turning and pulling up to park.

“Sorry guys,” he says, with a lazy half-shrug. “But like, when a good meal beckons, sometimes you’ve just gotta know when to take a break. Right, Scoob?”

Scooby Doo always agrees. And who can resist two pairs of baleful, hungry eyes and slavering mouths?

When Shaggy drives they always eat well, and rest well, whiling away time in the service station restaurant booths swapping stories and stretching legs.

It’s not long, however, before even he and Scooby are itching, with the restlessness that stirs in the soul of every natural adventurer, to be on the road again.


End file.
